The Dust on His Hands
by Hbrook shipping for life
Summary: Two brothers, one fight, one life. Already intertwined universes become tangled, while facts become mysteries. What will become of whom, and who will become what?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One: I Thought You'd "mist" Me...

Edge's Pov:

Edge stood furiously as he stared holes into the blob of black fabric, and red eyeliner that was dozing off in it's old, wooden station. What was this guy's problem?! He thought as he buried the heel of his foot deeper into the snow. Why couldn't he just LISTEN? The job wasn't that hard!

Edge took his fist and slammed it against the unstable wood of the old shed, and watched in halfhearted satisfaction as it rattled and creaked. He made a mental note to fix the damn thing later. It seemed like it could just collapse by even the most miniscule vibration of a single whisper. The skeleton known as his brother lazily popped open an eye, and gave him a carefree smile.

The taller skeleton took a moment to take in his brother's surprisingly calm composure. No, it wasn't uncommon, but it still wrung him with a strange feeling of bewilderment that seemed to linger through his skull whenever his train of thought experienced short a gap between his current tasks, and soon to do tasks. Why didn't he fucking care!?

"'Sup, boss?" Red hummed quietly as he let a soft sigh escape from his throat.

'Boss'... Edge hated it when the pint sized marshmallow called him that stupid name. Firstly, he never even considered listening to him, so it made no sense. Zip. Zero! NADA! NONE! And secondly, he had a certain sinking feeling that he was calling him that because it was simply easier to say than saying "Edge".

"You want to know what's "'Sup"? I'll tell you what's "'Sup"!" The taller skeleton burst," You FElL aslEEP aGAiN! I POsiTIonED YoU HeRe FOr a FuCkIng rEasON! A HUMaN COUld HAVe PASSeD!"

Red let out a sigh that, this time unlike the last, was far from relaxed, and sat up with his shoulders slumped over. Edge couldn't tell what had caused his droopy posture. He couldn't tell if it was from the stress of getting yelled at, the drowsiness of his nap, or just him not giving a damn about the situation, and it only infuriated him further.

"Why can't you stay awake for five minutes!?"

Red let an expression of internal conflict spread across his face as if he were considering saying something before he shook his head, and shrugged his shoulders.

"I don't know, bro. I've just been feeling _bone_ tired."

Edge let his magic spark up in crimson flares around him. And those those _stupid_ jokes. Hadn't he told him off about those jokes? He allowed his magic to form a solid, chalky bone as he forced it to build up until it was strong enough to form a strong release, causing the bone to drive itself into the supportive beam of the wooden barn. He watched stiffly as the rotting thing snapped, and collapsed on top of his useless excuse of a brother. That ought to teach him a lesson…

The taller skeleton eyed the pile of rubbish expecting his brother to burst out, but nothing happened… Okay? He was just taking his time? He continued to examine the large pile of decaying lumber, but he didn't see even the slightest movement. He didn't… Dust him, did he? No, that's impossible! There's no way!

A wave of undeniable panic washed over him, but before he could rush to the pile and clear off the rubble, the old planks began to emit a mysterious red grow… Well, it would be mysterious if he didn't know where it was coming from. That damn drama queen. When he was done throwing his silent pity party over there he was going to kick his a-

The pile of lumber erupted, spraying razor sharp splinters throughout the area, piercing the pure, white snow, and penetrating thick layers of bone. Edge couldn't help but to let out a high pitched yelp, both in surprise, and in pain. What the fuck!? Before he could address his new injuries a four foot bone shot past him, missing his face by mere inches. Fine. If he wanted to fight; they would fight. It's not like they haven't before.

Sans' Pov:

Sans stepped out of the portal that Ink had graciously provided for him, and immediately recognized the cold, tingling sensation of snow seeping through his old slippers… He should really buy some new shoes, but… Eh. It wasn't that important to the point where he actually needed to do something about it. He took a moment to take in the eerie feel of the exit to Underfell's ruins, before Ink popped out of a separate portal that quickly closed behind him just like his had.

"Alright, here we are, Sans," The artist announced," You guys'll be fine while I go check up on this world's flowey, right? He wasn't doing all too well last time I checked on him, and I just wanted to be sure-"

"Shut up," groaned flowey, who was sticking his head out of the sleeve of Sans' coat," You just love the sound of your own voice don't you? Just go."  
Then the flower slipped back into the sleeve, and began to crawl around in the blue coated skeleton's chest, and continued to allow his vines to find more space to cling to. This caused Sans to hold back a laugh, because the feeling of the vines moving around in there really did tickle a bit.

Ink seemed to be torn between saying something in reply to Flowey's comment, a taking off in a run, but quickly chose the second option, and was gone in a flash. The blue coated skeleton was planning on making a pun about the artists speed, and maybe the cold whether, but before he could figure one his thoughts were interrupted by the feeling of vines squirming their way up his ribs, while they wrapped itself around his neckbone.

Again, Sans had to refrain from laughing, because damn that really did tickle!

"Umm," He started as the laughter presented itself in his voice," What are you doing?"

"Oh nothing much," Flowey fake-Mused," Just tying- I mean trying something."

For a moment, the skeleton thought about how weird the flower's voice sounded when it echoed against his bones, but the tickiling soon cought his attention again. It seemed that the vines were going… Higher? The vines suddenly tightened around his neckbone with an alarming amount of pressure that sent a short electrical current of apprehension through him, but he quickly reminded himself that all was well.

"I think you're forgetting that I'm a skeleton, and no matter how hard you try, there's no way that you can choke me." Sans stated in a matter-of-factly way.

Flowey mumbled something about "Stupid logic" and, "Idiotic skeletons" but retreated his failed attack, and continued to tangle himself up in his ribcage. Sans didn't comment anymore after that, nor did Flowey, so the blue coated skeleton started his way to Snowdin. Right as he stepped foot on the rickety bridge, that would hopefully allow him to get to the other side without collapsing, he heard yelling, and from what he could tell it was quite some shouting match…. A one sided shouting match?

He didn't have much trouble identifying the voice that was yelling at the highest frequency that it could reach, and it belonged to none other than Edge. This caused Sans to wonder if he was screaming at Red. In all honesty, Sans had actually asked Ink bring him here in the first place, so that he could check up on Red. The last time that he'd talked to the black coated skeleton he really wasn't doing so hot… He had even vented to Sans about his thoughts of suicide… And they sounded… pretty promising… But if he could here Edge screaming, then that meant that Red was alive and well, which was a relief.

As if sensing Sans' change in thought, Flowey popped his head up out of the collar of his coat, and asked, his voice lathered in venom, "What are you thinking about!"

Sans, who was slightly taken aback, confused, and even a little frightened by the flowers sudden burst, merely shrugged, and replied,

"Nothing really. What made ya ask?"

Flowey gave him a dull look as one of his pedals twitched… Huh wierd. He wondered what it meant when one of a flowers, or more specifically, what it meant when one of Flowey's petals twitched, but he decided to just ask later if he remembered.

"When I was spreading out earlier, you squirmed in misery. I was just wondering what you were thinking that was so important to cut in from me enjoying your miserable squirming, Trash Bag."

Sans wanted to to tell Flowey that he hadn't been squirming in misery, but instead had been squirming because it tickled him, but he decided to let him think otherwise, so he wouldn't have to deal with an angry- or what I should say is angrier Flowey for the rest of the trip. He was already pretty upset from being forced to go on this little errand, but Frisk had insisted nevertheless. She'd said something about it being good for him to get out of the house every now and then, or whatever.

"Fine," The pesky flower grumbled," It's not like I cared," and then disappeared back into the neck of his coat.

After Sans has safely crossed the old bridge, and passed the first work station, starting for the next old work post, where it seemed that all the yelling was coming from. He rolled his eyes, and kept forward. It shouldn't be long now. He trudged along a few more feet, and heard the ear bursting sound of an explosion, and shattering wood. That… couldn't be good… After a while of moving a little bit faster he came up upon the scene of the crime.

The snow that had been a perfect, white blanket spread across the ground was now decorated with a million of different sized pieces of shattered wood. The tree's had been pierced with what seemed to be new, ragged branches, while all that remained of the work post that had been here was a small crater with an absence of snow that looked like it had been melted, but the water that should remain there was nonexistent. In the middle of it all was a heated battle between two skeletons. One tall, and wearing a black and red battle body, and the other short, and wearing a black coat, a deep red turtleneck, black, knee length shorts, and red sneakers.

Sans stood in mild confusion as he watched the two shoot magical attacks back and forth, along with trash talk, and insults. No, walking up on a scene like this was not unusual when it came down to Edge and Red, but it still didn't change the fact that Sans didn't know what to do in this situation. Should he intervene? Should he try to stop it? Should he make his presence known? Should he stand here quietly? Should he leave? What was he supposed to do?

Before he could think much further on what his action were going to be Flowey popped back out of his coat collar, and asked,

"Hey? Why'd we-..."

After Flowey caught a glimpse of the scene that was playing in front of them he grew silent, but only for a single God blessed moment before he opened his mouth again and said,

"Oh... A fight. That's great! Maybe someone'll finally die!"

This brought a spark of infuriation into the blue coated skeleton, but he pushed it back down to the furnace that it had jumped out of… Just this once… Just this once… He turned his attention back to the fight in front of him, and started to keep track of their movements. Edge shot a bone, and it missed his brother by inches.

"Hah," Red taunted loudly," Figures. You've always been a bad shot."

In response to the black coated skeleton's retort, the taller skeleton spiralled another large bone in his brother's direction.

Pfft simple, thought Sans, he's just going to dodge it… But as soon as it got within two feet of Red the one bone split into six, and right when they made impact, with several defining cracks, there was a large grey explosion in place of where Red had been standing. Right where the shorter, black coated skeleton had been standing seconds before there was nothing left other than thick, dark grey vapor.

Sans was utterly frozen in a complete state of shock, and before his brain could even process what that had even happened he'd already thrown himself into battle. How. Dare. He… How! Fucking! Dare! HE!


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two: Annoying Weeds and Their Tendencies to Mess Things Up, or… Help?

Flowey's Pov:

Flowey stared at the thick, grey vapor that had polluted the air around Red's previous standpoint. That wasn't supposed to happen…. Fowey was no scientist, but he had killed more than enough monsters in his past to know what it was supposed to look like when someone died and turned to dust. And he definitely knew that they were not supposed to detonate, spurring large poufs of smoke into the air that were so thick that you couldn't even see to the other side... When someone died it should be more of a disintegration process than anything else.

Before he was able to mention his observation, the idiot skeleton jerked himself forward, and before he knew it they were approaching Edge at an alarming pace.

"Smiley Trash Bag, what are you doing!?"

His outburst instantly caused Sans to pause abruptly, and catch the taller skeletons attention. The first thing that Flowey noticed about Edge was how confused and shocked he looked. No, not like a criminal caught at the scene of the crime he just committed. It resemble more of a kid who accidentally knocked over his mother's antieke vase while running through the house. Oh how sad, he thought sarcastically, it was all an accident…

"If I can't kill people, Sans, then neither can you!"

"What!?" The blue coated skeleton spat as he jerked his head to look at the flower," Did you not see what just happened!?"

"What!?" Flowey mocked," Did you not hear what I just said!?"

There was a short moment when they stared at each other furiously, and Flowey strongly considered shoving his head into Sans' stupid, vulnerable, unguarded eye socket. Oh how the annoying pile of bones hated it when he did that. Wait? Why was he considering it when he could just do it? He dragged out his main vine to give himself a little more height, and ability to move; then took in a deep inhale, screwing his eyes shut before cramming his head, with very much force, into the skeletons eye socket….

Then there was a very still silence, and Flowey took the opportunity to look around. It was dim, hollow, and the only light was illuminating the room- Er… inner skull was peering in from the two openings in the front in which he assumed was supposed to be where the Trashbag could see… The sarcastic bundle of pedals slithered about for a very short period of time before he got bored and poked his head out of the eye socket opposite of the one he came in from. He looked around, taking in the sight of the splintered battlefield in front of him.

"Huh… How amusing. He's escaped," Flowey muttered with a smirk.

Haha, the flower thought smugly, Asriel Dreamer wins once again… If I can't kill, than neither can that oversized chicken bone.

"HE WHAT!?" Sans thundered suddenly, acting as if he's just been struck by a considerably large bolt of lightning.

Edge's Pov:

Edge was running. He was running, and running, and running- hell! He didn't even know where he was running to, but he knew good and well whom he was running from! He'd fought Sans once. And that WILL be the ONLY time that he had ever- will ever fight him! He is the scariest comedian- or should I say living being that ever existed! Never! NEVER AGAIN will he try to lower the self esteem of anyone who remotely reminds him of Papyrus! EVER!

Edge had a very substantial amount of stubborn pride- some may even call it overweening, but everyone had their limits, and Sans was Edge's limits! By no means in the searing fucking pits of the underworld would he fight Sans for ANY reason! NOPE! NADA! ZILCH! ZERO!

Edge really hadn't had much time to completely process what he had just done, but there would be time for that later. Right now he needed to focus on finding some escape with the time that that flower had graciously given to him. Who ever thought that Flowey's stubborn urge to make others suffer, and to kill people would ever come in handy? If anything he thought that it'd serve him as a nuisance someday.

The world seemed to be flurrying past him in patches of color. There was some white; which had to be the ground. There was some brown; which he assumed was the tree's, and there was the occasional other color that he couldn't register due to lack of time. Just when he started getting tired, and he could feel his chest aching and burning, begging for him to slow down: he heard a familiar voice bellow in some sort of shock,

"HE WHAT!?"

Shit. SHitshitshitshitshit! The blue coated skeleton must have realized that he made a break for it! That was suddenly all the encouragement that he needed to stay on his feet. Edge had no clue how much distance that he'd put between himself and Sans, but he was certain that it hadn't been enough… It could never be enough…

Okay.. so maybe he should hide? Guh! He felt so weak, hafting to run and hide! In the game of predator and prey, he was not usually the prey, but he'd been the prey enough times to know that he loathed that position. Scrambling away, and just hoping that you won't die… Ugh… It just made him feel so… overwhelmingly fragile and…. Powerless….

These thoughts only made him feel even worse. He didn't like to think of himself as fragile, and definitely not powerless, but as lack of time pushed at him his thoughts scrambled to the closest matches that it could find. They just so happened to be fragile and powerless…

The tall, running skeleton saw a patch of blue and yellow only five or so feet away from him. At this very moment he almost accepted a fate of death, but quickly remembered who he was, and that he would not allow himself to die in such pitiful circumstances. Edge attempted to skid to a stop, and swing himself to the left; out of harm's way, but there was, unfortunately, a inflexible, slippery sheet of ice beneath his feet, and he only ended up falling flat on his butt.

He let out a short string of curses as he scrambled to get up, but only found himself being lifted up by Sans' magic. Edge felt himself become overcome with panic as he was lifted into the air, and almost let out a pleading, miserable squeak, but forced it back down to the very bottom of his throat. He was NOT doing that!

Out of the corner of his eye he caught glimpse of what seemed to be Error. He felt his soul jump in relief and excitement as an idea formed. He could hide in another AU!

Error had his back turned towards his direction, but seemed to be bidding goodbye to someone, so he had to be leaving, which meant he HAD to open a portal! All that edge would need to do is jump in it.

The glitch was carrying a giant, black electronic pen on his back that reminded him of something that Ink would carry around, and he seemed to be a bit on the peppy side, but who cares!? He was getting out of here ASAP, whether Error changed a bit, or not! It's not like he couldn't guess where this behavioral change had come from… He'd been hanging out with that Ink guy so much that Edge was sure that he's been turned into a love sick puppy dog, or something…

Sans' Pov:

Sans was holding Edge up and trapped with his powers as Flowey nagged him.

"Trashbag!-"

At first when he'd gotten ahold of the tall skeleton there was a flash of terror that spread across his face, but it quickly vanished, and he just stared off just over beyond a few tree's to his left.

"You heard what I said! If I can't kill than neither can you!-"

What did this guy find so interesting over there? Sans was just about to turn his head to see for himself what was oh so interesting to suddenly catch and hold this guys attention for that long, but then a tiny voice in the back of his head whispered,'What if he's trying to trick you?' and that was all he needed to crush his curiosity, and refocus back at the task in hand.

"TRASHBAG," The sassy bundle of pedals screeched.

The sudden outburst, that went off too close to his ear for his liking, caused him to flinch slightly before he retaliated with,

"What, Flowey!?"

For Flowey, that seemed to be the last straw. He lunged himself to his eye socket, and bit down on the rim with what seemed to be as much force as someone his size could possibly muster. Sans let out a yelp of shock and pain. How the fuck did something that small bite so hard?! The flower then let out a moody huff before saying,

"Hmf. He's escaped again. WHOOPS!"

The blue coated skeleton immediately turned his gaze back to where he had been holding Edge captive just seconds ago, but, surely enough, he was gone. CRAP! When he got bitten his powers must have automatically cut themselves off due to lack of concentration!

"Flowey," Sans groaned as he rubbed his sore eye, shocked, and looked around in search for his newly made enemy, but he was nowhere within sight. There was only the thick woods around him… Just rows, and rows, and rows of thick… endless… tree's…


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three: Fatal Flowey-itos

Flowey's Pov:

Flowey allowed his vision to sweep the area that was littered with millions of purposeless tree's, and freezing layers of snow that covered the ground like a cold, purely white blanket. Several sets of footprints had been left in the snow from previous passersby, and they went on forever in several directions, so there was no way that Sans would be able to figure out which track to follow. There was no sight of Edge anywhere, and the blue coated skeleton was looking seemingly defeated. Flowey felt himself smirk as he inwardly celebrated his little victory. Ah, vengeance was really was sweet.

The flower ducked his head back into the skeletons eye socket, curled up, and layed his head down. He was tired. Today had been a very long, and very exhausting one, and teleportation between AU's certainly didn't help. For whatever reason it always seemed to drain his energy. Sans always joked about it; calling it "fatal flowey-itos", but Ink had assured him (Not that he needed the artist's reassurance) that it was a rare, but completely safe phenomenon that simply happened to some people as a side affect from teleportation through AU's. The stupid skeleton often got his kicks by telling people that " Fatal Flowey-itos" was dangerously contagious.

Not that this bothered him… Most of the time people had enough sense to realize that it was just a joke, but one time Sans had convinced Papyrus that it was some sort of real sickness that he should be aware of… Flowey hadn't seen Papyrus until a whole week after that, and it was because Frisk had explained it… Not that Flowey missed him… He was a soulless flower! He couldn't miss people! Just the thought was completely ludicrous! But… He had to admit that things weren't the same when Papyrus wasn't around… It was peaceful, supposedly. It felt nice to wake up to something other that the psychopathic earsplitting NYEHEHE's that Papyrus liked to greet everyone with. But then… It left everything almost… Too quiet when he wasn't there… It felt strange… Nevertheless, that week was the best sleep that he'd ever gotten.

Flowey allowed his thoughts to reduce themselves to soft mummers until they were faintly audible to his own conscious. He let the sudden, but comfortable up and down motion (Sans must have begun walking) play the part into lulling him to sleep. The world around him just seemed to become unimportant to him (more so than usual) and it too gently faded away from his conscious.

Sans Pov:

Sans felt the pesky bundle of sarcasm pop back into his eye socket. Why that stupid flower. Always getting in the way of any and everything that he could. The blue coated skeleton could feel the light tickling sensation (or should we say; 'Sans'sation. He thought to himself.) on the inside of his skull that was most likely from Flowey slithering around in there. Sigh.

Sans had tried multiple times to reduce the space that Flowey would take up when he was hanging around with him (thanks a lot, :[ Frisk) but the stubborn thing wasn't having none of that. Nuhuh. Apparently personal space wasn't one of his few concerns. In all honesty, he hadn't really tried that hard in the first place, but he had tried… What? You suspected that some sort of effort was supposed to be inserted here? You know that this IS Sans that we're talking about here, right?

The blue coated skeleton took a deep agitated breath, and began walking. Edge may be out of sight, but that certainly didn't mean that he was out of mind. He HAD to be around here somewhere. Sans had always known that something had been off about the way that Edge treated Red, but he would have never thought in a million years that he would have held a hatred so deeply for his brother that he'd actually kill him... He could remember vividly when Red had told him that his brother loved him… "I know he does," The short, black coated skeleton had explained lazily," He does. He just doesn't like to show it.". Some part of Sans felt so wrong… So… Idiotic for believing that.

It was so painfully obvious. The way that Edge had treated his own brother just screamed complete and utterly loathing, but, yet he'd decided to stick by Reds words… Red had been so determined to believe- to cling to the thought that his brother might hold some sort of affection; some sort of attachment towards him, but even his hope couldn't fully convince him. Red had always held a lot of anxiety, especially in that area.

He had actually opened up to Sans once and told him about it. About how much they fought. About how badly they fought. About what was said when they fought, and it was all just so overwhelming for the black coated skeleton. He didn't want to take it anymore, but the mere whisper in the back of his head saying "He didn't mean it" made him continue on.

It was ridiculous really… How much he could bare… How much he would bare… How much he did bare… All in the name of what? A nonexistent love? A fake companionship? A long lost hope?

Sans was sure of one thing and that was that he was going to avenge Red's death whether Flowey was okay with it or not. And with that, he decided that he was going to make his way back to the ruins entrance, and search the whole town from there.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four: Nostalgic Voice

There was a paralyzing dizziness that consumed Edge, tugging at his bones at a torturously fast, but slow pace. But he was in no way surprised. To him, this was just the common, magic wrenching sensation of portal leaping and AU traveling. This. This is exactly why he rarely traveled through Au's. That and his evergoing search for a single human being that took up all of his time. He vaguely wondered if he could create a puzzle that would solve this problem, but another thought shoved itself into focus.

He still couldn't believe that he'd managed to escape San's punny grip, AND successfully snag one of Error's portals completely, and utterly unnoticed. His luck had run him so far this time that he wondered if it would dry up, reducing itself down into some kind of dry luckless dessert. The tall skeleton couldn't help the chuckle that escaped him at that thought. Undyne would have personally killed him if he would to so much as mention something that ridiculous in front of her.

"There's no such thing as luck, Papyrus!" She'd bark," Only pure blood, sweat, and more blood!"

Edge might have lingered on that thought for a while longer, but his mind's tracks were were abruptly switched by a sudden lurch in his soul. That feeling sent a sense of perception throughout his entire body that screamed at him to brace for impact, because he knew what it meant. It meant that he was about to be thrown out of the portal that he was falling through, and it was about to happen now. A slight current of panic shot all throughout his body at his sudden change in instinct, and the freezing sensation ricashaed with a sharp force that; seemingly, hit every single bone that comprised of his body.

Without much more warning (or time to collect reasonable wit) he was flung out of the black realm that he'd just been falling through sweet, sweet seconds ago, and stumbled forward a few steps before running into, and smashing through something thick, but fragile. It made a terrible shattering noise that completely engulfed his senses like razors against his ears- er skull.

The Earth smashing sound made it seam as if the universe itself had broken into millions of fragmental slivers that were collapsing down into the atmosphere around him as sharp pains began to etch themselves into various spots on his body.

He tried to stay up on his feet, but it was as if the ground (that hadn't even been under his feet for two seconds) had been snatched right from under him, and now he was falling again. He put his hands out in front of him just as his eyes screwed shut, and he hit the ground, hands and knees digging into the soft, cold terrain. Unfortunately, this caused the sharp, broken objects to seep further into his bones, forcing a surprised gasp out of him. He focused his attention on the nerve wrecking pain that seemed to be wracking his entire body to try and get an idea of how bad the damage might be, and stilled as he felt the slow, but threateningly steady drain of his HP.

He shivered as he felt his warm magic leak through his cracked, and obviously damaged form drip down his body. 'I'm bleeding…' was his first thought. His second thought would have usually been,' Shit. I'm going to make a goddamned mess.' but in his extreme state of panic (and knowledge that he wasn't at home, so he wasn't soiling anything of his) switched it to, 'Why the fuck AM I bleeding?' It didn't take long for his muddled thoughts to recognize the stinging all over, and to realize that he was covered in wounds.

He had just begun to process all that had happened, but stopped as a strangely nostalgic voice broke through the sound of shuffling clothing, and what seemed to be the movement of broken glass.

"Crap… I guess my aim was off by just a smidge…"

It was lightly innocent, and blameless.

The sound of this voice brought a memory; or I should say, a collection of memories to the surface of Edge's mind, and for a moment he felt the world slip out of focus-. No. He was not trapping himself in time… There was no point in remembering… No use…. No importance….

He shook his head free of these thoughts, being sure to bury the resurfacing memories down as far as he could before forcing himself to look at the source of the voice to the left of him. That voice didn't hold the same kind of innocence that Under Swap San's held… It was... different…

It wasn't THAT kind of innocence… It wasn't the kind of innocence that drowned you (more likely him) in the urge to destroy it- disintegrate it to the point of no return- to twist it around in ways unknown to man just because it was fragile-oh so very fragile and particularly unstable-temporary...- no it wasn't the kind of innocence derived from ignorance… It wasn't… It just wasn't…

He wasn't sure what it was, or what made it so different, but it lit a flame that he knew all too well… One that would soon grow into a wildfire that would eventually drive him to find out why it was different.

It wasn't until after all of these thoughts cleared that he was actually able to bring focus onto the figure sitting up next to him with it's back slightly bent forward, and head resting in the palm of his hand as if he had a mildly annoying headache. The moment that he laid eyes on the character it immediately clicked that he had not hitched a ride with Error- It had been someone entirely different- Someone that he didn't recognize, but yet he did. This person looked like some kind of mixture between Ink and Error.

He was a glitch- like Error, and was somewhat copying Ink's wardrobe. He wore a scarf securely around his neck that was a light navy blue, and a deep but bright, red T-shirt with two black horizontal stripes running down the middle. He wore black gloves that held bright yellow palms, along with a black coat that had matching yellow rims on the pockets, and hems. To tie it all together, he wore casual, black, knee height shorts that each had a deep blue horizontal stripe going down the side of each pant leg. His arms and legs, unlike his skull which was the same color and texture of Error's, were the same undecided red of his shirt, and he wore red, sneakers with blue laces. After a moment longer, Edge took notice to the two little, blue symbols that resembled plus signs located on the bottom right, just below each eye socket- the tip of each one just barely touching the rim.

He was the spitting image of both Error and Ink, but he knew that that wasn't who the guy's voice had reminded him of….


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five: Crimson Eyes

Fowey's Pov:

Flowey slowly opened his eyes as the familiar scent of nectar overpowered his sense of smell. It was so strong that he could almost taste it… He blinked away the blur in his vision and looked out at the patches of gold in front of him. Wait! Gold patches? Flowey screwed his eyes shut and shook his head roughly from side to side before daring to open them again.

His vision was swaying slightly, but he forced it to steady as he looked back at the patches of gold around. No… This can't be possible… It can't! He couldn't be back here! He'd- He'd been coaxed into leaving with everyone else this time! Frisk had promised no more resets! He was out! He had finally been out! It had been fine! Everything had been just FINE for entire MONTHS! WHY DID SHE RESET?

Flowey took a moment to fully take in the scenery around him… He was surrounded by a bed of soft golden flowers, rich in a sweet scent that could carry on for miles. A scent which he had grown a distaste for. The same smell that him and Charah used to love- used to look forward to- was the same smell that now made him sick to his stomach. He felt as if he could regurgitate every ounce of fluid traveling through his stem, roots, and leaves until he was nothing but a charred, withered piece of trash on the ground. The rest of the room was just cave. A damp, bland cave. The walls were nothing but the same bluish black tent that they'd always been… Just how he always remembered them… His personal prison…

He began to lightly consider going to his position to meet Frisk… for the billionth time…. as a giggle echoed against the cold, stone walls of the dark cave in a surprisingly recognizable way.

"Azy," The voice giggled almost breathlessly," Shut up!"

Something inside of himself wrenched into a tight knot as something else began to throb weakly deep inside of him. Was that- No. It couldn't be… He twisted himself around as he heard footsteps push through the soft ground. They were close and getting closer…

"I'm going to get you," a young male's voice sung out dramatically," I am the absolute god of hyperdeath, after all!"

He stared hard at the exit of the particular room he was in until a girl with brownish, red hair, deep crimson eyes, a bright green and yellow striped sweater, and a plain pair of chocolate brown shorts skidded through, taking a sharp turn to the left. Hot on her tail was a small goat boy dressed in a similar attire.

That boy was him…

'But how!?' his mind screeched," How could that be him when he was right here- in an entirely irreversible form!?'

And that girl… That girl… She was… Her name was…. It just couldn't be… She's- she's dead!

The throbbing that he had been feeling began to burn as if he'd downed a glass of gasoline right before swallowing a match. He tried to scream out for her, but no sound left his mouth. He squirmed and he tugged at his own stem in attempt to rip himself out of the ground, but all was in vain. It felt as if the ground beneath him had turned itself into solid concrete. He cried out as loud as he could, but again, no sound came. Somehow the action had caused his throat to collapse in on itself with the pain of a thousand scratching nails. The more he tried to tug himself out of the ground, the more he called out for her, the more his throat closed, and the more the nails seemed to claw at his throat.

They couldn't even see him! They just kept running, laughing… As if he wasn't there… The girl's laugh was just as he had remembered it. It felt as if he were listening to his favorite song after going a while without hearing it and he hated it. All he could do was watch their shadows dance amongst each other as they the young boy chased her, trying to catch her like a child chasing a firefly amongst the midnight meadows.

He screamed, and screamed, and screamed, until he couldn't even breath. The pain was overwhelming, and she still couldn't hear him.

'I'm right here!' He'd try.

'Please! I-I'm right here!'

They still couldn't hear him.

He stopped trying to scream, but he still couldn't breathe. The pain didn't stop….

Her Laughter was a sound that he'd almost forgotten… A perfect sound... The sound of it continued to echo off the walls of the cave as the boy continued to roar, "I'M GOING TO GET YOU, CHARAH!"

Charah… That name… It felt so foreign to his ears… and yet… so familiar.

The red haired girl ran buy Flowey in attempt to escape the goat boy, and the boy jumped, tackling her by her legs, which caused her to trip, landing on the bed of flowers in front of him with a muffled 'thump', causing that terrible necturus scent to spread throughout the air, along with a million golden pollen particles.. He tried to reach out and touch her, but he couldn't move. He felt as if his body was bounded together.

"Haha, I got you!" The boy cheered, "Just admit it, Charah! I win!"

"Never!" She roared playfully, " I will never go down by the looks of you!"

The red haired girl was pinned down on her stomach by the goat child, and they were both laughing with a playful contemptment… in pure bliss… Charah glanced over her shoulder to get a better look at the goat boy, and suddenly a mischievous grin played on her features. Flowey felt his blood run cold as the world around him seemed to crumble apart… He hadn't seen that in so long… He had forgotten how it felt to see that smile…

"Azy!" The girl blurted, "there's mom!"

"Where?" The boy gasped, letting go of his 'prisoner' for a moment to avoid getting caught roughhousing by his mom… their mom…

But Flowey remembered this… mom hadn't really been there…

Charah took advantage of her own diversion, and quickly jumped the young goat boy, almost instantly pinning him to the ground.

"Now you must be punished!"

"No!" The boy yelped," anything but that!"

"But, Azy, you did this to yourself… Tickle… Tickle… Tickle…" She hummed softly.

The boy squirmed like mad to try and escape, but if Flowey could relive that moment… Just once… He wouldn't squirm away. He'd simply chose to allow himself to be frozen like that forever. 'Azy' began to cry as tears prickled at the sides of his eyes ,"Charah no!" he wailed.

The crimson eyed girl's eyes grew guilty as she quickly let him go, and pulled him into a sitting position, rubbing his arms in a comforting way..

"Hey don't cry. Please, Azy?" She pleaded, brushing a bit of fur away from his eyes, "Please, Azy. I'm sorry."

The crying boy nodded as he lept into the girl's arms, burying himself into her arms, and chest.

She was about to say her famous lines… Now one of Flowey's favorites… They often replayed themselves like a broken record that could never be shut off.

"You're such a crybab-"

But before she could finish the everything began to quiver, and shake violently, like their world was an ant form in the hands of an overzealous child.

"Hey, wake up!" a deep voice yelled, "Wake up, Flowey!"

Everything snapped away, and he was immediately greeted with the image of Sans. He sucked in a gulp of air as he filled his burning lungs (Whatever Flowey has) with cold, sharp air that caused them to sear, and he began to cough. He felt as if he hadn't had a breath of air in years.

"S-sans, what- what are you doing here- how did you-" He snapped his head around taking in the snow covered ground, and the houses, and restaurants. He was in Snowdin," TrashBag, how did we get in Snowdi-"

But then he saw San's expression. It was strange, and out of all his resets… He didn't think that he'd ever seen it before. It was gone in an instant- just about as fast as it had appeared- and was replaced by his trademark smile, and lazy eyes.

"I think you were dreaming- can flowers dream? Anyway, it must have been a nightmare or somethin'. You just kind of started panicking, and your roots started freaking out- I couldn't tell if you were trying to rip me apart, or trying to squeeze me to death. I think you got your vines all tangled up too. Then you just started screaming for someone named 'Charah'... And then... you just got still… I kept trying to wake you up, but…"

His voice trailed off, showing the end of his conversation. He had told the whole thing as if it had been a mildly interesting story… Just as he talked about everything else. Flowey forced his mind to clear itself from the dream that he'd supposedly had, and he took a moment to note that he was hanging out of Sans' eye socket. He popped himself back in, slumping himself up against the skull's walls as he wondered how he had gotten out there.

"What do you mean I got my "vines all tangled up"?" he asked, not really focused on the conversation.

"Well, I mean, your vines started to tie themselves up in knots and stuff-"

"WHAT!?" He screeched, suddenly very alert of the conversation.

"We can fix that, right?"

"NO! W-well, not without a trim…"

He slumped down deeper with dread… He hated getting trimmed… It hurt… a lot.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six: Fiddlesticks!

Template's Pov:

Template rubbed his head to attempt to rid the dull throbbing that had settled itself into his skull. He was confused as in why his portal jump had been so unsuccessful, and wondered if it had even taken him to the right place… He hoped so. He was just trying to get back home…

What had he even smashed into anyway? Something had surly made rather harsh contact with his skull, and it definitely hadn't been air. Template didn't open his eyes. He kept them glued shut as he tried to will the pain away. Where was he? The ground beneath him was cold and soggy, while the air felt crisp. Somewhere cold? Like Snowdin, maybe? He mumbled something, but it was completely inaudible to his own ears.

Well, he was never going to find out where he was if he never opened his eyes…

Edge's Pov:

Edge continued to stare at what seemed to be the child of Ink and Error as he shook all other thoughts out of his cluttered skull. Where was he? Before he could expand this thought, the hybrid jumped up from where he was, wobbled a bit, blinked several times, and began scanning the area. ? Where did that sudden move even come from? The guy had been sitting down as if he were experiencing pain and confusion then he just hopped right up like he hadn't just been thrown through a window…

The mysterious person then noticed him, and his entire self, posture and all, lit up with familiarity and excitement. This only deepened Edges confusion towards the guy's actions, and he wondered if he had hit his head through that window a little too hard... Not only had he never met this person before, but he couldn't understand why this person (or any person, really) would be excited to see him… He was, obviously, the Great and Terrible Papyrus, but "Terrible" had been included into his title for a reason. He wasn't supposed to be liked. He was supposed to be feared.

Why would this guy be excited instead of scared if he knew who he was? Did he have him mixed up with someone else…? How dare he mix up him with somebody else!?

"Oh stars! You must be Edge!" The character blurted "I am SUCH a huge fan- You have NO idea! Do you remember that one time in the Underfell universe when you tried to make spaghetti and ended up catching your apron- ya know, the one that says 'terrible papyrus'- I loved that apron- on fire!? That was hilarious! And do you remember how Red tried to put it out, and then he caught on fire, too- I have to admit- I was a little worried about you guys, but it was comedy gold!"

Edge's soul gave out a weak pang at the mention of his brother's name, but he ignored it. He'd have time to think about that later. How did this hybrid know all of this? Was he stalking them?

He was about to comment on all the wierd stalkerish knowledge that the smaller skeleton had, but he was interrupted by an almost insane voice.

"Wow. How'd you manage that?"

This caused the stalker to spin around, and Edge to look up.

They discovered the owner of the voice to be a Sans like skeleton with a hole bashed into the right side of his skull that took out part of his forehead and eye. The Sans like skeleton wore blood stained clothes, with a sharp pointed smile, and crazed, wide eyes.

Edge stood up and steadied himself, ignoring his wounds as he watched the interaction between the two short skeletons. The bloody skeletons gaze flickered to him, but returned right back to the glitch as he extended a hand. This gesture seemed to frighten the stalker, causing him to recoil dramatically, and eye the extended hand apprehensively.

"Er," Stammard the glitch.

"What's the matter?" The crazed skeleton asked, "Don't ya know how to greet a new pal?"

"Uuhm," the glitched skeleton voiced nervously as he turned around and gave Edge an urgent glance.

What did this hybrid know about this skeleton's past that he didn't? I mean, all he did was offer to shake hands… Sure it was distasteful where he came from, but from what he heard, it's a very popular form of greeting throughout the multiverse.

"I think that we should- RUN, EDGE!"

And before Edge could wrap his mind around as to why he should run, the glitch took off. Feeling confused, he looked back at the blood stained monster to see him smiling wickedly back at him; his mind screamed danger. Remembering his injuries, he thought it best to not fight right now. He hadn't clue as to how much HP that he had, and he wasn't about to risk death right now. Spinning on his heal, he ran in the same direction the glitchy skeleton had.

He didn't get very far at all before a fence of bones fell from above him, blocking his path. Edge quickly turned around to reroute, but the blood stained skeleton slammed several chalky bones down that created a cage around him. The ground vibrated strongly from the impact, and he almost lost his balance.

Damn. Edge was really hoping that he could at least heal up before he got into another fight, but hell, this guy really wanted a fight. It didn't look like he had much of a choice. He took a quick peek at his HP, noticing that it was about a third gone, and looked down, seeing that glass stuck out of his bones. He was still bleeding, so his HP would continue to drain…

He was going to have to be careful in this fight. Of course he was the Great and Terrible Papyrus, he had earned that title well, but he wasn't unkillable. The only reason he was still alive was because he understood that. That's what made him so great and terrible. He could understand the situation, evaluate it, and take over. He wasn't unkillable, anyone could be killed, but he knew what he was doing. He wouldn't lose a fight.

He narrowed his eyes at his newfound enemy, and watched him closely. He was a Sans, obviously, he'd probably be lazy on his attacks. He had never met this one before, but he was sure that one trait laid strong in all Sanses; well, all with the exception of swaps, and that was laziness.

Edge shifted himself into a more battle suitable stance and summoned a bone.

"You want to fight me? The Great and Terrible Papyrus?" He scoffed pridefully.

This only seemed to make the murderous skeleton's pointed smile grow wider before he said,

"I'm afraid that there won't be much of a fight."

Edge tightened his grip on the bone held tightly in his hand as he rolled his neck and shoulders.

"I guess that you're right," he said between gritted teeth, "There won't be much of a fight."

Template's POV:

Template was scurrying to a place where he could safely create a portal when he heard a few loud thunks, followed by several louder thunks falling one by one; almost in unison. He threw a quick glance over his shoulder to check to be sure that Edge was following, but he wasn't.

What!?

Fiddlesticks!

He didn't follow him! He knew that he shouldn't be surprised. He had been observing that skeleton for ages. He knew that he wasn't one to follow orders, especially from a stranger that wasn't giving him a reason why he should...

Template took a jerky turn and went right back to where he had been earlier and found Edge and Horror!Sans entranced into a battle. He didn't pay much attention to what was happening in the battle. The only thing he concentrated on was Horror, whom he had locked in his sights. The Secondary Protector (Template) summoned his pen and pulled up a graph that floated in the air in front of him. He drew three bones and projected one towards the blood stained skeleton. It landed beside him, causing him to get distracted. He shot another, which puctered the bloody skeletons coat and stabbed the ground, acting as a sort of ancre.

He was about to try and get Edge and himself out of there, but before he could so much as consider uttering a single word, the tall skeleton had summoned another bone. It was frightfully clear that he was planning to try and finish Horror off with it, and Template scribbled a shield onto his graph as he sprinted in between the two skeletons and deployed it.

Edge's bone bounced off of the transparent shield, and Template jotted down a portal that would lead to the Underfell universe. He swiftly spawned it underneath Edge, sending him falling. Template hurriedly jumped in behind him, and watched as his portal closed up behind them.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven: Old Wounds

"Ah-"

"Sh-shit-"

"C-c'mon-"

"H-harder, Trashbag!"

"Wh-what? I am-"

"Ah- holy fuck- could you- ah- get any fucking- ngh-"

"I don't see how you're complaining- this was your idea-"

"Trashh- shit! Ah- just- Fuck- stop- just stop! ngh-"

Sans abruptly let go of Flowey's vines, and leaned up against a tree as he huffed for air. "I-" he huffed "told you," huff, "that, that," huff, "wasn't going to," huff, "work."

"Shut up," Flowey growled horsley.

Sans shook his head as he chuckled breathlessly. Flowey had been so desperate to not get his vines trimmed that he had insisted that he just try to untangle, and untie them from his bones, but, apparently, he decided that was way worse than the alternative.

"So," Sans voiced, taking in a gulp of air, and clearing his throat, "How are we, uh, supposed to trim 'em?"

"Tr-trim them?" The flower practically screeched, "We'll trim them when I'm allowed to 'trim' your fucking limbs, Trash Bag!"

There was a short, tense silence before Sans said, "Okay, okay, there's no need to get your vines up in a knot."

"Why you," He growled.

"Hm, I guess that we're literally bound for life, now. I wonder if I can make a pun out of that," The skeleton mused.

"You just made one, you idiot! Isn't that enough!?"

"Nah, you can never have enough."

Flowey grumbled incoherently before slytherin back inside Sans' eye socket, laying his head down on the inside of the skeletons jaw. Sans leaned up against the tree lazily for a few moments longer before he stood back up and decided to continue his search for Edge.

Flowey's POV:

Flowey curled up grumpily on the floor of Sans' skull as he watched the world through the skeleton's sockets. Sans began to walk again and Flowey was, once again, lulled by the soft movements; except, this was a different type of lulling. It wasn't like the soft sleep that fell over him earlier. He didn't feel like he could sleep. After everything that had just happened, he didn't think that he'd be able to sleep again in fear that Sans might try to trim him in his sleep. This time, it was more of just a comforting feeling; something very tranquil.

Flowey allowed his thoughts to pace softly inside his mind, and they happened to bump into Sans. It was only natural. He was the closest person to him at the moment, after all. Stumbling upon this subject, he couldn't help but to think about the skeleton's sanity. After the barrier had broken, and Frisk had convinced him to leave with them, a lot of things seemed to change. For one, his mind somehow… clicked. After not being able to feel love for so long, it was so shocking for the emotion to suddenly flood back. After he transformed back into his flower form (after being Asriel), he could suddenly feel again, and to say the least… it was strange…

But, that wasn't the only thing that had changed after leaving the underground. After escaping, Sans took a huge leap into a pool of emotions too, but… in a different way than he had. Sans had been dealing with depression for so long, that it had become numbing. Needless to say, he wasn't feeling very much of anything, so Frisk suggested that he see a therapist. Predictably, he politely declined with a "Kid, I'm fine. I don't need a therapist." and a "Don't worry about me.".

Of course, just as predictable as Sans' response, Frisk eventually convinced him to do it, just like she could convince him to do anything else. At first, there was no noticeable difference in Sans' behavior, but after a while, he started to express real emotions. It was much better than those fake ones that he liked to toss around. It could get really surprising, really. He would experience every emotion so intensely after that, and it even seemed to surprise Sans himself.

He would get crazy happy, insanely sad, gastly angry, extremely sad, and then, out of the blue, really depressed again. It would happen again and relapse… Through it all, Sans and Frisk seemed pretty determined to fix his problem, so he wasn't expecting it to end anytime soon.

Flowey shook his head and sighed. He had a nagging feeling that the only reason that Frisk made him tag along just to make sure that Sans didn't let his "New Emotions" (or NE, which is what him and Frisk called it) get the best of him and… as much as he hated to admit it, that's exactly what he had done when he kept the skeleton from killing Edge.

The flower squirmed uncomfortably at the thought, causing his aching vines to sting in protest. Ouch. That damn trashbag couldn't follow instructions, even if a life was on the line. He specifically told him to "Untie" and "Untangle" his vines. Not yank and strangle them. Like, golly gee! Why dontcha just saw them off with a dull saw! He might as well have.

Sans POV:

Sans circled through the woods one final time before he huffed with defeat, deciding that it would be best if he gave up on the search for now. He thought back to Red, and felt his magic scratch at the inside of his throat. Red… Was gone now… He couldn't change that. It wasn't his fault; there's nothing that he could do… But that didn't keep his mind from reminiscing. He COULD have done something. Red COULD still be alive right now. If only he had stepped in. He just sat there and watched… He just watched when he could have done something… Just like… he always did…

Sans wiped his eyes with his coat sleeve as he took in a large, shaken breath. He couldn't help what he didn't do. He couldn't help the past anymore… But that wasn't what his mind wanted to tell him; those words weren't what his mind wanted to live by because he COULD HAVE done something while the time was there. He very well could have prevented Red's death, and it was crushing him.

The skeleton stifled his sniffles as he rubbed his eyes again. He needed to block these feeling out. He needed to shut these thoughts up. Now wasn't the time. He just needed to get to the meeting point. He just needed Ink to teleport him home. He wasn't even that far. He could get there. He could make it.

But he couldn't. His soul began to tug with uneven patterns, and his legs became stiff. He tried his best to breathe. He tried to just drop his thoughts and focus on nothing but calming his breath, but they only continued.

His death is your fault. You could have stopped it. He's gone; forever. He's never coming back. You're so lazy. You're so worthless. You're so helpless. You can't even make it to the fucking meeting point! What's wrong with you!? Why can't you just be normal? Why can't you just be helpful? Why can't you just pull your shit together for once? Why, why, why!? Why are you like this!?

Flowey's POV:

Flowey spectated uninterestedly from inside of Sans' skull as the skeleton continued his search for the Underfell version of his brother. He was just wondering when they were going to head back home when the skeleton's magic summoned tears that welled up on the edges of his sockets. What the…? Flowey blinked several times as he laid motionless and confused on the floor on Sans' jaw. It took him a moment to actually comprehend that something was wrong, and he started picking between sitting back and letting him work it out on his own, and slithering out and trying to help…

He wasn't one to be helpful, but…

Sans began to back up until he pushed himself against a tree, allowing himself to slide down until he was sitting in the snow. The skeleton's breath started to come in sharp gulps, and it looked like his tears were pouring rapidly from his sockets… What had caused this…?

Just as flowey decided that he wanted to pop his head out, Sans covered his eyes with his hands. Flowey groaned, pushing through them. When he was outside of Sans' skull, he could see the full effect of whatever was bothering the skeleton so much. He was shaking, crying, and mumbling mostly inaudible apologies.

It was… miserable. Flowey hated seeing Sans like this. Despite the skeleton's annoying tendencies, he had grown fond of him. Right now, Sans had apparently dissolved under the pressure of his own thoughts again. Though it didn't happen much, Flowey had seen it happen enough times that he was pretty sure as of what he should do to help him… Hopefully… If not, they'd be here for a while.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight: Here We Go Again

Edge's POV:

Crashing into the ground with a "fwamph", Edge's bones stung with the impact of gravity's weight slinging his ass to the ground. He groaned in half confusion, half pain as he tried to wrap his mind around what had happened. One minute he was engaged in battle with some unprovoked attacker, and the next, he had been plunging into a hole.

He groaned again as the after effects of AU jumping filled his held back the urge to vomit as he tasted the putrid substance in the back of his throat. He was experiencing post AU jumping symptoms… Which must mean he has jumped to a new Au… Which must mean someone opened a portal for him to go through… Which lead to there being only one person who could've-

Feet hit the ground beside him. That mut. Edge pushed himself up, and glared at the damned hybrid. The thing had landed perfectly, heroically even, and it felt somewhat ironic. Edge's magic was simmering, and he had half a mind to kill it. But that would be no good, he had to remind himself. If he killed it, he would have no way back home. He needed to get back to his brother. His heart panged at the thought, but he ignored it.

"What the hell did you do that for?" He growled.

The glitch stood up, and brushed himself off. "You don't want to fight him."

"I know who I do, and who I do not want to-" He tried to argue, but was immediately cut off.

"Fight?" The glitch questioned. "You want to fight just about anyone who crosses your path," He shot him an understanding smile as if he were an uncle trying to cheat his nephew out of some well deserved mischief. "But this guy?... You don't want him."

"Don't patronize me like I'm some- some little child!" He snapped.

The glitch only continued to smile, and said, "Whatever you say."

He knew he had already won. He had the ability to travel, not Edge. He had already gotten his way, and saw no need to continue arguing over something that he felt he had already won.

"Take me back," He barked.

"What-"

"I said, take me back." He repeated. He wasn't going to let this wanna be hero knock him around.

"Edge," the hybrid protested, " I can't take you back-"

"Sure as hell you can!" He crossed his arms tightly. "Stop trying to be a God-Damned- Fucking- Hero because I'm not some damsel in distress, helpless, and in need of your ever gracious assistance-"

"Ah-hem."

Both him and the hybrid turned to address the unidentified throat clearing, and they laid eyes on none other than UnderSwap Papyrus. The lazy, orange hoodied, honey and cigarette loving Papyrus who was more commonly known as Rus. It had only just occurred to Edge that he was, yet again, somewhere other than home. He let his gaze quickly bounce around the room, finding a somewhat similar couch, staircase, and kitchen entrance. They must be in the living room.

Edge and Rus' eyes met, but their gazes were quickly relocated to the glitch.

"Oh. My. Stars, I cannot believe it's actually you!"

Rus glanced at Edge with a confused expression, and he only sighed in response. Here we go again


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine: Filthy, Little Glitch

"Oh, holy cosmos!" Template blurted.

Edge huffed. His magic was pulsing in irritation as he fiddled with his glove. He didn't have the mental capacity to deal with this joke of a situation.

The glitch's eyes morphed into stars, and Edge rolled his eyes. His magic's agitation started a dull headache, and he was about ready to try and take himself home. He was ready to leave, but unfortunately, that glitch was his only way out.

"I can't believe-"

"We know." Edge growled. "You're ecstatic- in pure awe at meeting him, yet another normal person. Just take me the fuck home, then you can come back and yap at him all you want."

Both Rus' and Template's gaze was on him now, and they both looked at him with unblinking surprise. Apparently they hadn't expected him to snap at him like that, but it didn't matter. He just wanted to go back, whether he had to face Sans or not.

Everyone was quiet for a single godblessed second, and then the glitch responded.

"Of course! Silly me." He smiled. "I guess I got so caught up in all the excitement… Well, time to put the universe back into order, I suppose."

Edge mumbled a few insults under his breath, and let out a sigh as Template drew his portal home. It only took seconds for the black and white sketch to pop out. Edge didn't waste a second in walking through. His vision swam, and his head spun as his feet felt the crunch of old snow beneath him. He closed his eyes until everything felt still, and then opened them.

His vision was met with ash colored snow. Then it hit him. He was dead. Actually, and irriverasably dead. His brother was gone. He blinked, and his magic swirled oddly in his stomach. He was cold.

"Whoa." Template's voice felt faint in comparison to everything else. "What did I miss here? It looks like someone dumped the ashes of half a village here."

Something about those words struck him oddly. "What?"

"There's a lot of grey powder here. What happened?"

Edge looked at the spread dust carefully… There was a lot. Too much. He had killed people before… Now that he thought of it, dying didn't sprinkle this much dust. Dying didn't cause you to explode in poufs of smoke. Red wasn't dead.

Edge turned abruptly to Template. "What would cause this much dust?"

Template eyed him funny, but responded. "Maybe a dust bomb… but the only ones who uses dust bombs are Ink and I… Why would Ink have done that…?"

Edge snapped. "Why would you have done that!? You were here!"

"What? No! I wasn't even in this area. Edge, you found me about a fourth a mile from here.. What happened?"

"... So you're saying Ink interfered?"

"Possibly… Could you explain the situation? I can't help you if I don't know what's going on."

"Help?" Edge growled. "I don't need your help, you filthy, little glitch!"

A weird expression crossed Template's face, but he said "ok." and built himself a portal out. Then he was gone.

Looking back at the dust-mingled snow, Edge felt many emotions. Anger, relief, curiosity, fear. But his brother was alive somewhere, and he was going to find him.


End file.
